Never Too Late

by Julie Blair

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jamie closed the patient file she’d been halfheartedly looking through and checked her watch again. It was almost nine, and Carla wasn’t here for their morning meeting. It had become a ritual—coffee in her office while they reviewed the status of the insurance investigation and any clinic issues that needed attention. Every day she was aware of what an asset Carla was. Thank God they’d gotten past that awkwardness at Lori’s party. Sure, her pulse occasionally jumped, but didn’t everyone have an ex-lover they sometimes reacted to? There was still the problem of Sheryl finding out, but for now she’d have to ignore that. She smiled at her father’s picture. Everything was going to be fine with the clinic.

  Rubbing her neck, she thought back over the weekend. She still didn’t know how to feel about it. Sheryl had been in high spirits because of a lunch with the superintendent whom she described as her “winning ticket.” Their conversation had included the importance of family values for teenagers. Jamie’s questions about what constituted family values weren’t well received. Sheryl’s “does it matter as long as I get my promotion” left her queasy.

  Jamie hated that Sheryl’s happiness depended on a homophobic jerk, but Sheryl happy improved their relationship. They hadn’t made love like that in months. They were spending more time together, and things often felt like they used to. Maybe after Sheryl got the promotion she wouldn’t have to suck up to him. She took a long sip of coffee. It was so good she moaned. That alone was worth hiring Carla.

  She rolled down the sleeves on the red silk shirt she’d bought shopping with Sheryl yesterday and walked to the front counter. “Has anyone talked to Carla this morning?” No one had. Maybe she’d just overslept.

  Fifteen minutes later Jamie was coming out of a treatment room when she saw Carla in the hallway—shuffling steps, tilted to the right, bracing against the wall. She dropped the file and rushed to her.

  “Easy.” Jamie wrapped her arm around Carla’s waist. “Let’s get you into the treatment room.” She put Carla’s arm across her shoulder and inched her toward the treatment room. “Marci,” she hollered, “I need help here.”

  “I’m scared,” Carla said, gripping Jamie’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” Jamie said as she and Marci helped Carla sit on the adjusting table. Kneeling in front of Carla, she rubbed her hands over Carla’s knees and met eyes clouded with pain and tears. “I promise you’ll be fine.” Jamie gripped Carla’s knees tighter to keep from brushing the tears away. “How did it happen?”

  Carla explained the incident with the TV. “I’ve never hurt my back before. It really hurts. Can you fix it?”

  “Yes. I promise you’ll be standing straight by the end of the day and able to tie your shoes by Friday.” Jamie would do whatever it took to keep that promise. “Let’s get you facedown.” Marci moved to the other side of the table and they helped Carla lie down. “Tell me if the pain gets worse.” Jamie laid her hands on Carla’s back and did what was second nature to her.

  “My back’s always been so strong.”

  “The lifting you did Saturday fatigued your back muscles, and when you tried to catch the TV they weren’t up to the stress.”

  “I should have called in sick. I’m sorry to take you away from your patients because I did something stupid.” Carla’s voice broke.

  “You did the right thing by coming in, but you should have called. I would have picked you up. I want you here where I can take care of you.” There was heat and tension in the paraspinal muscles, and restrictions at L3, L4, and L5, bilaterally but worse on the left. This was bad. “You jerked to the left when the TV fell, and this is the most tender spot,” she said, pressing a little harder just to the left of the L4/L5 joint.

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s what I do.” Jamie was never sure how to explain it, but the minute she touched a patient she knew where their pain was. She massaged the muscles until she felt the telltale softening she was waiting for.

  Carla sighed. “That feels good. Your hands are so warm.”

  “I’m going to adjust you now. You might feel a little jolt of pain but I promise it won’t last. Okay?”

  “I trust you.” Carla gripped the armrest.

  Jamie did a quick downward thrust on Carla’s back and the table dropped away beneath her. She did two more adjustments, satisfied that the vertebrae had moved back into alignment. It would take a series of treatments to resolve the problem, but she was sure Carla would feel better immediately. “Okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Get an ice pack for her,” Jamie told Marci. Resting her hand between Carla’s shoulder blades she said, “I’ll check on you in a few minutes.”

  “I don’t want to interrupt your schedule.”

  “You’re my first priority.”

  *

  Several hours later, Carla felt like she was spending a day at a spa as she lay on her back on Jamie’s couch, a pillow under her knees, a cup of coffee at hand. She’d been shocked when she stood up in the treatment room and felt a dull pain but no bite. Relieved, she’d hugged Jamie without thinking. Since then she hadn’t had ten minutes to herself, with everyone checking on her. Jamie had set her docking station within arm’s length with instructions to do nothing but lie there and listen to music. When Carla protested that she could at least read through patient files, Jamie staunchly refused.

  Carla hadn’t meant to snoop when she scrolled through Jamie’s iPod. All of Melissa’s albums were on it, which wasn’t a surprise. But she found forty-two playlists, listed by year and city, beginning in 1991and ending this year. She realized what she was looking at—concerts. Jamie had gone to even more than she had. Carla clasped the iPod to her chest as tears filled her eyes. The impossibility that they’d never bumped into each other was almost more than she could bear.

  “How are you feeling?” Jamie asked when she bounded into her office.

  Carla had to clear her throat before she answered. “Much better. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She held up the iPod. “You went to all those concerts?” Jamie took a step back from the couch and put her hands in her pockets. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I wasn’t prying.” Carla tried to sit up. “Ouch.”

  “Easy. Slow movements.” Jamie helped her sit. “It’s a miracle we didn’t run into each other, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe we can go sometime.” Carla wanted to take Jamie’s hand and pull her down next to her. She wanted to talk about those concerts, and share memories. She’d thought about Jamie at every one. Melissa’s music had been a slender but cherished thread linking her to that night. She’d been listening to her first two albums for hours during those difficult months following her return from Atlanta when responsibility pulled her in the only direction she could go while her heart looked back at the other path. They hadn’t mentioned that night since Lori’s party, and it suddenly wasn’t all right. “Jamie—”

  “Let’s get you up for a short stroll. I sent Marci for lunch. If you can do ten lengths of the hall you can have your choice of sandwiches.”

  Carla reined in her sadness. Jamie obviously didn’t want to talk about it. She let Jamie help her up, although she could have done it herself. She wasn’t about to forego a chance to feel that arm around her waist or the sinfully good sensation of Jamie’s breast against her side. They enjoyed a companionable lunch in Jamie’s office, but all too soon Jamie gathered up wrappers and cups.

  “I want to adjust your back again.”

  “I didn’t know you did more than one adjustment in a day.” She wasn’t complaining. Jamie’s hands on her again would be more than welcome. Jamie’s touch was different than Sara’s. Something indescribable came through her hands. Carla felt the power even if she couldn’t find words to describe it.

  “I don’t usually because it’s intense. When it works it can drastically speed up the healing time for acute injuries like yours.” She sat back down in the chair. “That same intensity can be too much for some
people and make them really sore, but I think it will work for you.”

  Carla sensed that Jamie wanted to say more. “Go on.”

  “There’s definitely a science to chiropractic, but I’ve learned to respect and value the art of it more than the science. Healing is a funny thing, Carla. Not as predictable as people want, or expect, it to be. I’ve come to trust that even though I can’t always control it, I know when it’s happening and when it isn’t. When it is, I do more of what I’ve been doing and encourage people to be patient. When it’s not, I try a different approach or refer them out.”

  Carla remembered Penni’s comments from the party and tried to imagine Jamie as anything less than the confident doctor sitting across from her. “It’s important to me to understand what you do, and how you make treatment choices, so I’m better able to answer patients’ questions.” Carla wanted to say so much more, but a line separated them. They were polite and friendly with each other, but with an edge of awkwardness Carla regretted. She was afraid to spook Jamie again by bringing up anything about that night, but this repressed quality to their interactions frustrated her.

  “Let’s take you on another stroll.” Jamie reached for Carla’s arm and helped her up. For now she was happy to settle for Jamie’s arm around her waist, but she hoped she would have an opportunity some day to talk about that night and get it out in the open.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I’m driving you home or you’re calling your husband to come get you.” Jamie folded her arms across her chest as Carla got to her feet. Her movements were guarded, but she got up by herself, which was a good sign.

  “Really, Jamie, I feel much better. I’ll go home and ice it.”

  “Not negotiable.” She picked up Carla’s purse and sweater from the desk. “Driving involves two things—sitting and lifting your legs to work the pedals—that are hard for your back right now.”

  “All right.” The pain was gone from Carla’s face but she looked tired.

  Jamie cupped her elbow as they walked to her SUV. Carla caught her toe on a crack in the asphalt, and Jamie put her arm around her waist. “You have to consciously pick up your feet. They still want to shuffle.” She didn’t let go of Carla’s waist until she helped her into the car.

  Jamie pulled into the driveway of the front-gabled bungalow on a tree-lined street in Los Gatos. Sheryl’s school was nearby. The sage-green paint and burgundy trim looked tasteful with a bit of flare, two adjectives Jamie had come to associate with Carla. “I lived on the other side of Los Gatos until a few years ago. It’s crazy we never ran into each other.”

  “You’d think we would have crossed paths at the market or dry cleaner or something.” Carla’s hands were folded in her lap, and she was tapping her fingers to the Melissa song.

  The front yard justified the gardening advice Carla gave patients. A small lawn was bisected by a flagstone path and surrounded with flowers. She wished her front yard looked that inviting. The song ended and Jamie got out of the car. She cupped her elbow as she helped her out. “What’s that smell?” she asked when they were almost to the front door. It wasn’t Carla’s perfume, but it was just as sweet.

  Carla pointed to a rosebush covered in ivory blossoms with dark-pink edges. Jamie took one of the stems and pulled the rose to her face. The scent was intoxicating.

  “Secret,” Carla said. A bee landed on the rose and crawled around the stamens. “The name of the rose. Do you like to garden?”

  “I don’t know.” Jamie let go of Carla’s arm and stepped to the next rose, a yellow one. It smelled a little like apricots. “I’ve never had time. My mom loved to—roses, especially. I wish I’d paid more attention.” She took in the exuberant flowerbeds and the birdbath nestled among tall pink and white flowers. Two little birds splashed around in it before flying off. The yard was obviously a labor of love. Intimate was the word that came to mind. “She would love this.”

  Carla disappeared around the side of the house and returned with pruners. She handed Jamie roses as she cut them. “Hold these.”

  A rainbow of roses grew in her hand. “Careful,” Jamie said when Carla knelt down to cut some pink flowers close to the ground. Jamie helped her up and her hand ended up sandwiched between Carla’s arm and her breast. Her cheeks felt warm when she let go. Touching Carla again, even therapeutically, brought back their past in a way Jamie didn’t like. She’d get Carla in the house and go home—a swim to relax, then she’d fix dinner for Sheryl.

  “Put these in water as soon as you get home.”

  “I’ll help you get settled with an ice pack.”

  “Jamie, I can—”

  “An ice pack is heavier than you should lift.”

  “The house is a bit messy.” Carla hesitated before unlocking her front door.

  “I won’t look.” Jamie followed Carla across the tiled entryway into the living room. “Looks like you’re the one moving.” Empty boxes were stacked haphazardly in a corner, and rolls of packing tape littered the coffee table. “You aren’t, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” The room had all the warmth and casualness she’d come to associate with Carla—pale-peach walls, floral-print fabrics in pastel shades covering the rolled-arm couches, extra pillows. A house where people spent time together.

  “I’ll put these in a vase for you.” Carla lifted the flowers from Jamie’s hand, their fingers touching as she did.

  Jamie followed Carla through a dining room to the kitchen. Yellow-tiled counters and an orangey-red on the walls gave the room a cheerful feeling. A KitchenAid mixer stood next to an array of glass bowls and baking sheets. A copper pot sat on the stove, a plate of cookies next to an espresso machine. A cook’s kitchen.

  Carla reached for a vase on the top shelf of a cabinet. “Ouch.” She set the vase down hastily, bracing herself on the kitchen counter.

  Jamie hurried to support her around her waist. “That’s my point. Something you wouldn’t have thought twice about doing yesterday is likely to cause you pain for a while.” When Carla seemed stable she lowered her arm and backed away, shoving her hands in her pockets. “If you do too many of those things you risk a relapse.”

  “Point taken.” Carla straightened, rubbing her back.

  “Keep icing it tonight. You’re likely to be stiff again in the morning so don’t panic.”

  Carla snipped the ends off the roses, pulled off some of the outer petals, arranged them in the vase, and then arranged them again. “Can I take a hot bath?”

  “Not tonight.” Jamie’s pulse hitched as she remembered that tiny tub in the hotel. Why did her mind keep going places it shouldn’t? She crossed her arms and watched a hummingbird land on the feeder outside the window over the sink and drink greedily.

  “The heat will relax your muscles, but that’s not necessarily a good thing right now. They’re supporting the injured joints. Go ahead and take one in the morning if you’re stiff when you wake up.”

  Carla set the vase of flowers next to Jamie and pulled the Secret blossom above the others.

  “How ’bout if we get you settled on the couch with that ice pack?” Jamie opened the freezer and pulled an ice pack from between neatly labeled plastic containers and packages of frozen meat. Her freezer was filled with Sheryl’s store-bought diet meals. “Will your husband be home soon?”

  “Umm…I’m not sure. I want to get out of these clothes before I lie down.”

  Jamie watched Carla’s hips and back as she headed through the living room toward a hallway on the far side. Her gait was stiff, her steps careful, but overall Jamie was pleased at the progress. The cold from the ice pack penetrated her awareness, and she set it on the counter. She went and stood at the French doors that led to the backyard. Just like the front yard, it was well tended. Trees lined the back, a small lawn filled the middle of the space, and flowerbeds curved around a flagstone patio. Intimate and cared for. A table was off to one side of the patio, two place mats and a candle on it. Romantic din
ners. A hand on her shoulder startled her from her reverie.

  “I could barely get into a skirt this morning,” Carla said. “Now I can bend over enough to put pants on. I’m more grateful than I can say, Jamie.”

  “A back injury is scary if you don’t know it can be fixed.” Jamie watched a squirrel shimmy up an oak tree in a neighbor’s yard, a second squirrel in hot pursuit, but her focus was on the warmth of Carla’s hand. She smelled Carla’s rose-scented lotion. “You’ll be fine in a few days. I’ll have Marci work with you next week on strengthening your back so this will be less likely to happen again.”

  Jamie stepped to the side and Carla’s hand fell away. “I should—” Her usually well-put-together office manager was wearing black leggings and a yellow V-neck sweater. Jamie’s eyes went where they shouldn’t. An uncomfortable silence descended.

  Carla stepped closer and lifted Jamie’s hands from her side. “Can we do something to make things less awkward between us?” Carla’s eyes were soft, and radiating kindness. “That night mattered to me, and I don’t want to have to pretend it didn’t happen. Can’t we talk about it like two old friends reminiscing?”

  Jamie felt glued to this spot by Carla’s eyes, soft and inviting. “I don’t like the awkwardness either. I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “How about if we agree it was special and—”

  “Important,” Jamie said in a whisper as she looked down at their clasped hands. Two old friends…She couldn’t hold back the words. “I wasn’t fair when we talked at the party. I let you admit how much it mattered without telling you how much it meant to me.” She’d been trying so hard not to mention anything about that night, and right now she didn’t know why. They’d both gone on with their lives, but wasn’t a night that special important?